A/N: Here we go, the big chapter I've been working on. Looking forward to your feedback! I did my best to make this author's note small as possible.
...if you haven't realized what Winter is by now, you're about to.
But I'll not spoil it up here.
As ever, the fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this tale, and many others. I own no references, quotes, memes or themes! They're all tributes to legends far greater than me. I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that. In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know in the comments~!
Once more, hopefully I captured the feeling of a proper RWBY episode from the old days. I'll leave that to you, the reader, to determine.
Do tell me what you think! It really does matter! Hope you enjoy the Cooler's Revenge tribute in here. You'll know it when you see it.
In any case, hope you enjoy the chapter~!
Away we go~!
"Very well. Congratulations, Jaune Arc. You've managed to impress me.
Few have accomplished that. Not even my own kin. Unfortunately...
...you're about to wish you hadn't."
~Winter Schnee.
Just a Little Schnee
Was this what love felt like?
Love not for a family member, but something far deeper?
This raw, burning, primal sensation in her chest, this heat choking her throat?
Winter wasn't entirely certain; after all, she'd never experienced this before. Only the pale affectation of affection - or rather, the idea of what it could -should!- be in any given life. But to experience it firsthand? No, never. Not until this moment.
She supposed that was her own failing. Emotions were often...difficult to comprehend for her at the best of times. Always had been.
They likely always would be, though she dearly wished they weren't.
Fighting was easier. That, she knew how to do.
And she did it well.
As did her foe.
Jaune Arc barged through her storm of frozen Nevermore like professional; parting the swarm with precise swings of his blade. He couldn't hit them all of course; some pinged off his shield while others scratched across his aura, but for all their ferocity, her summons did nothing to slow him. Swift strides carried him forward, slowly but surely closing the distance between them. The birds were being outright ignored now, as one might a harmless swarm of gnats. Her sister's adversary didn't care for them.
He only had eyes for her.
Something shivered deep inside Winter.
No point in further wasting her aura, then; dropping her semblance, she let him close with her.
Clashing blades with Arc, she took a moment to survey his strength as they strained against one another; probing each other for weakness. He moved well; albeit in a restrained fashion; even now she could see he still held back the lion's share of his strength. Yet for all his so-called restraint, he wasn't being overpowered.
Impressive.
She slapped his sword down, twisted her wrist to divert his blade into a nearby pillar and used the following opening to drive the hilt of her weapon into his collarbone. She may as well have punched a battleship for all the good it did her; the attack didn't slow him at all. Bulling headlong into her guard like a Beowolf in a china shop, his skull slammed into hers, delivering a dizzying headbutt that left her seeing stars. Momentarily dazed, she pirouetted away on one heel to gain some distance, backing up now when he struck at her ribs; only to realize said distance wasn't enough - not nearly enough.
'Drat,' she chided herself. 'I've blundered, haven't I?
Indeed she had; because in an instant, the blond closed the gap between them and swung high, striking for her head. She parried instinctively; trusting to her reflexes, redirecting his blazing blue weapon to the right. That was a mistake, one she saw too late. Unfortunately in doing so, she inadvertently left herself wide open to the fist that followed in his wake.
Winter wasn't quick enough to get out of the way in time; not without her glyphs, and she hadn't the time to use one.
So she did what any good soldier would do:
Grit her teeth and took the hit.
Clenched knuckles barreled into her tense stomach like a hurricane, forcing a grunt from her as aura flexed against her skin. Unable to maintain her footing, she staggered back half two steps, forced to give ground against her wishes. Not that she made much choice in the matter. The impact alone nearly blasted the breath from her lungs -she'd have a nasty bruise over her belly come morning- and it was only the brisk breath she had taken beforehand that allowed her to fight on, whirl, and drive her dagger in at his face.
Credit where it was due, Jaune Arc didn't blink, nor did he flinch in the face of danger.
Although his eyes did seem to glow as though lit from within.
Was it her imagination?
She hadn't the chance to ponder the matter further. He shifted his stance nearly imperceptibly, head tilting aside to let her secondary weapon scrape harmlessly across his cheek. Aura sizzled angrily as her dagger danced past, but he'd lost less than her; that made him the winner of their little exchange.
Left over-extended by her thrusting stab, she realized her peril almost too late; barely managing to bring her blade around and counter the kick that came crashing into her guard. The mere act of blocking made her wrist creak and forced her to brave the blade with the back of her hand to prevent it from being torn out her grasp entirely. What manner of fighting style was this? She'd expected a slash, the sword, not for him to use his legs like some...some kick-boxer!
He wasn't done, already pivoting, launching himself headlong into another kick-no, it was a trick, she saw that burning blade sweeping in again, a horizontal slash that would've shortened her by a head without aura.
Conjuring a glyph between them, she inverted gravity and launched him away, buying herself precious time to breathe.
Dust swords were dangerous on a good day, but that thing was burning like superheated plasma, and her weapons had begun to suffer from repeated clashes against its visceral heat. She definitely didn't want to test her skin against it without aura.
She might lose a hand.
"Neat trick!" Arc rolled his shoulder, working the kinks out. "Weiss isn't that quick with her glyphs."
Was he comparing them? If so he wouldn't find her lacking.
Rather than retort, she stepped forth to slash at him again, to which he ducked low and cut at her feet in a rising crescent, forcing her to hop back lest she lose more aura. This time, her retreat served a purpose. She vaulted over the crackling blade and kicked out at his face with a heel, to which he deployed his shield. The impact rang harshly against it, momentarily numbing her leg. Still, she had her opening.
Landing nimbly atop his bulwark, she stared down at him.
She expected her weight to bear his arm to the ground.
To her great delight, he didn't budge.
He shouldn't be able to hold her like this; she was a full-grown-woman, of a height with him, standing at an awkward angle atop his shield, ankles tucked in tight with her weapon well in hand. Yet he didn't seem at all bothered by her weight. That implied a strength that defined his lean build...among other things.
On the contrary, he grinned back, utterly unafraid. "You're not half bad...
Talking during a fight was a sin. Any true huntress knew that.
And yet.
"You're rather capable yourself." she granted him a nod. "My compliments."
Said compliments came in the form of a kick to his face that snapped his head back and carried her off his shield, but still.
Alighting seamlessly behind him, Winter lashed out without looking back, already knowing his blade would be there.
Sparks flew. Literally. He'd nearly taken her head off.
Craning her neck back she stared at him over their crossed swords, leaving their faces mere inches apart. Arc didn't mock her like Branwen undoubtedly would've; instead she saw the quiet respect in his eyes, approval from one warrior to another, even if they were, the both of them, holding back.
Was this love? She didn't know. The uncertainty excited her.
She drove a mule-kick backward, catching him in the breastplate to launch him away.
He stabbed down into the ground with his blade as he went, carving a fearsome furrow to arrest his momentum. Brandishing said saber before him, he adopted a loose fencing stance of his own, one hand clenched tight behind his back. Did he intend to fight her on equal terms? Curious.
Regardless, the sudden shift piqued her interest. She mirrored her stance and edged forward, causing him to do the same.
The longer they fought, the more it felt like she was waking up; as though she'd been half-asleep for so long, and only now handed a cup of coffee.
Some might call her emotionally stunted. Perhaps she was. If so, her upbringing was likewise to blame for that. Jacques Schnee was many things; gluttonous, a monster, tyrant even...
.
..
...but he was not her Father.
Make no mistake, his foul blood ran through her veins, -she'd long since had a DNA test to make certain- but she would never call him kin.
Her strength came from Mother, and Grandfather before her.
From the Schnee.
Theirs was a unique sembance, passed down throughout the ages, perhaps the only hereditary one in all of existence. She'd still been powerful before she'd unlocked it, always strong, from the very moment of her birth, some might say. An anomaly, even among such a prestigious family. A prodigy they called her. The Pride of Atlas. Iceborn. There were other names, other titles she wasn't proud of, some she had earned, others she wished she herself well rid of.
But at the end of the day, there were three labels she could not deny, no matter how she strove against them.
Strong. Fast. Clever.
Said strength was but one aspect of herself; hence why she was able to break free from her family in the first place. Her speed was another factor in that of course, and her mind a third, yet ultimately it was her pristine power that prevented her from becoming like...Him.
Jacques had recognized this and sought to shackle her, limit her potential, chain her down...so she'd left.
She regretted that, you know? Leaving Weiss and Whitley to fend for themselves, knowing they might well be smothered under the weight of his expectations.
But she had to go her own way. She must, or she'd simply go mad.
She would not become like Mother.
Her time in the military had given her a purpose she lacked; there was a simplicity in structure, in knowing what was expected of her, being another faceless cog in the machine. No one cared about the Schnee name in the ranks; you were measured for your deeds there, not your face.
And in time, as she rose through the ranks, she found a new family.
General Ironwood became more of a Father to her than Jacques had ever been, ever would be. For that, she was grateful. For that, he had her loyalty. For that, she would see his orders carried out...
.
..
...even if she did flout them sometimes to look in on Weiss and Whitley.
Still, she held to the General's creed.
Lived it, for the most part.
Good soldiers followed orders. By becoming one, she'd been able to find her place in this world. Save as many lives as you can. Always grow stronger.
Take one life to save many.
She had always been strong, and she'd become stronger still since she accepted her duty. Her responsibility. But she wasn't truly satisfied, not really, had never experienced true satisfaction until this moment.
Until now.
Now, when she felt something as their blades clashed again. Not anger, but excitement. Expectation...
So yes, love, quite possibly.
Ripping her spare dagger free from the handle of her sword, she rushed him in a flurry of blows.
Someone was laughing. It wasn't Qrow or Amber.
Oh, she realized. 'Its me.'
There was no arrogance in his stance either. He swayed left, right, then left again, easily evading the next three strokes of her blade. He caught the fourth on the back of an armored gauntlet, let it scrape harmlessly by, diverted the fifth in a similar manner, and outright caught her blade on the sixth, holding it just shy of his left eye.
The right flicked her way, quirked in mild amusement.
Winter found herself smiling with him.
'Not bad. Not bad at all...
She delved at him with her dagger, striking three more times in rapid succession -seven, eight, nine!- forcing him to disengage, though not before his blade clipped her temple. She struck back just as fast, raking her dagger across the length of his jawline. Aura shrieked angrily as they parted; she immediately warded both arms before her, ready to fend of the next attack she knew was coming.
It never came.
Rather than charge in like some reckless student, Jaune Arc sketched a graceful salute with his blade, one she found herself returning unbidden.
With that, her already lofty opinion of him climbed another notch on the pecking order, placing him just below the General himself.
This was no mere student. He fought like a Huntsman. Was he actually one of Ozpin's agents?
It made a certain sort of sense, she supposed; the Headmaster of Vale had an eye for talent, or so General Ironwood often said, and liked to recruit wherever and whenever he could, ever looking forward to the next generations. She could see such potential catching his eye. How young had Arc been when he was recruited, she wondered? As young as her?
Weiss never stood a chance against him, did she? Neither would she, if she kept holding back.
Ironwood would be cross with her for revealing this, but...
...she couldn't bring herself to care.
Winter rushed in, all but abandoning her fencing stance and throwing caution to the wind. Once more, their blades clashed, but this time, she took a page from Arc's book and used the close proximity to slam her forehead against his. Once. Twice. Thrice.
It was like headbutting a Grimm, but she didn't care!
Their foreheads clashed with a flare of Aura. His smirk mirrored hers.
Maybe...just maybe...she could finally stop holding back...
Her eyes blazed.
(.0.0.0.)
Yup.
That settled it.
Their last clash confirmed Jaune's suspicions.
Whatever her potential, he didn't share blood with Winter. She didn't have that telltale spark of chakra with her; if she did, she would've shown it -or he would've sensed it- long ago by now. Chakra coils weren't something you could just hide away; it took decades of practice to properly mask one's chakra signature, and even then you could tell if you were close enough.
And Winter Schnee didn't have any.
The realization proved...strangely gratifying.
For a moment there, he thought Dad might've done something horrible and cheated on Mom.
But if they weren't related, then where was she getting all this power from? You couldn't pull something like this out of thin air...or maybe you could...
.
..
...what was she?
And why did she have magic?!
She might not have chakra, but he could feel that energy churning in her, much like Salem, but brighter, wilder, colder...
Winter brought her frozen blade down on his head while she was distracted.
The ice on it shattered and the metal bent inward, leaving her to balk.
"What?!"
Blinking stars out of his vision, he broke off from the stubborn Schnee, pivoted, and smashed his shield into her stomach with just enough force to blast her backward. He let go of his shield as he did, leaving her arms momentarily trapped over it, trying to wrest it aside while still holding her weapons.
In that brief moment of inattention between one choice and another, when she couldn't decide what action to take, he channeled a bit of chakra to his now-free hand and punched high.
His shield held. Winter's face didn't. It was never a question of if, only when.
Qrow cackled in the background as Amber cheered him on.
He couldn't blame them for their enthusiasm; that righteous right rook rendered Winter's uncontrolled stumble turned into a flying tumble; her body went one way, and his shield another, sending both skidding across the asphalt through the market.
The shield, at least, was lucky. It landed nearby.
Winter...may have crashed through a poor fellow's produce stand-
"MY CABBAGES!"
-bounced off a manhole cover, and landed in a pub. And gone through said pub.
A bead of sweat ran down Jaune's brow. "Ooops...?
Please be empty, please be empty...
At least it wasn't happy hour...?
Qrow's laughter redoubled.
Rolling his shoulders, he took the reprieve for what it was and waved his arms about to work out the aches in his muscles, shaking off the frost left behind by the nevermore up across his armor as he did. From there he brandished his blade, retrieved his shield, and collapsed it once more. It wouldn't be much more use here; simply another target for her to whale on-
An icicle whistled past his cheek, opening a thin cut there. He blinked and touched a finger to the wound, somewhat surprised...and impressed.
Up already, was she?
Against all odds, Winter really was; as he looked on she dragged herself out the gaping tear in the building and, heedless of her disheveled state, reached out, grabbed her drooping right shoulder and-
CRUNCH.
Even Jaune couldn't help but wince as she slammed her arm back into his socket.
"Shall we continue, Arc?"
"You're really something, aren't you?" Thumbing the blood away from his cheek, he fixed her with what he hoped was a polite smile. Mum always said it was important not to look arrogant, even if you really weren't. "I can't remember the last time someone made me bleed. Guess that makes us even, huh?"
Winter's face went a curious shade of red. "Even...?"
He didn't get it. His praise was honest, so why was he blushing...?
Kurama offered the mental equivalent of a shrug. "Don't ask me. Mysterious are the ways of women-
'That doesn't help at all!"
"As I said, mysterious are the ways of women!"
Once again, of no help whatsoever!
"Stop ignoring me and stop holding back." Winter brandished her battered saber his way, demanding his attention, icy blue eyes intent. "Use that semblance of yours already; the one I've heard so much about."
Semblance?
Oh, riiiight. His semblance. The one he definitely had and hadn't been lying about all this time. That misconception. He didn't want to bust out a Rasengan against her just yet, much less a Rasenshuriken. Those tended to be aura busters...to say nothing of what happened afterward. And besides, he had the distinct feeling Winter was still holding back the lion's share of her strength.
...screw it, he was already in trouble, wasn't like he could make this any worse.
"And what about you?"
She blinked. "Me?"
"You're holding back as well."
"Impressive." Her eyes went half-lidded. "I'm surprised you noticed."
Kurama sighed. "No, no, and no! I know that look! I swear, if its not one Schnee, its another!"
Winter sneezed.
Heh. Schnee, Schneeze. Almost made him laugh.
"Arc."
His gaze drifted back to Winter, unable to hide his smile as he saw another glyph bloom behind her. "Hmmm?"
She settled into a stance, bringing her blade low to the ground.
"Prepare yourself."
Her face filled his vision, bringing steel with it.
His eyes bulged.
Fast!
He blocked immediately, grimacing as the force of the impact drove him back half a pace. Ice blossomed across his arms, only smoldering away beneath the heat of his blade. He struck back, only for Winter's glyph to flash again; suddenly she was behind him, past him, striking at his flank. He swayed backwards, spine near-parallel with the ground, only to find her dagger diving down at his throat. He caught it on his vambrace and seized not the dagger, but the hand holding it. Heaving, he bodily drew her body over his, throwing her to the ground.
Another flicker of white bloomed the second she touched the street and she vanished, gone with the wind.
Jaune righted himself with a confused noise, ice already melting as he rolled his shoulders anew.
There was no panic, only quite confusion...and excitement at this new development.
She'd surprised him. Just for a moment. What had changed? She wasn't that fast ordinarily; it must have something to do with her glyphs. Acceleration, perhaps? She'd blitzed him in a straight line and it didn't seem she could turn. Still nothing he couldn't handle-
"Above!"
He unfurled his shield again, only to grunt as Winter crashed down into him from on high.
She struck like a falling star, causing the ground to crater underfoot.
Sparks shrieked as aura and armor protested; it took him a moment to realize she'd pierced clean through the thick metal with both blades. Drawing her wrists apart, she wrested the shield from his grasp and flung it over her shoulder, where it whirled past to wedge itself in a brick building, leaving his right side exposed...
.
..
...or so she thought.
He sidestepped her lunge and smashed a roaring rasengan into her back.
Winter went down facefirst with a startled yelp.
As did the ground.
Well, the asphalt's yelp was more a ponderous groan really, given he'd just sundered the street and rendered Winter's face intimate with the dirt in a way no huntresses desired, but hey, potato tomato.
"That's not the saying, Jaune...
He blinked. "Really? It isn't?"
"Not in the least!"
Semantics!
A hand seized his ankle.
Aghast, he looked down to find Winter still conscious, glaring up at him, gripping his leg. Incredible. Just what were these Schnees made of...?
He could've planted a boot on her back and ground her into the dirt, but that wasn't sporting. He'd been raised better than that.
And besides.
This wasn't enough.
Not nearly enough, not at all.
She was still restraining herself. Why? He had to know...!
Calming himself, he quirked a brow, wondering if she'd dash his hopes and throw in the towel. "Had enough?"
She latched onto him and used him as pivot to drag herself upright, still eerily calm. "Not yet."
He allowed it, wondering what she was up to, tutting once. "Your aura is down by half...
Weiss would've had an outburst by now; shouted and shrilled and squalled at him.
Winter merely tilted her head, eyes aglow. As in they literally seemed to glow for a moment. "A glass half-full still isn't empty."
Perhaps, but half was still a far cry from the pristine huntress she'd been at the beginning of their battle. Her outfit was a mess of dirt and stains, her hair on the verge of flying free from the meticulous bun she'd bound it in. She'd managed to keep ahold of both her saber and dagger, but even they were twisted and pitted after continuous contact with his blazing blade. They'd not last much longer.
Still, if she wanted to keep going, who was he to deny her? He just didn't have it in him.
Clicking his tongue, he stepped back and sketched another salute with his blade.
Winter granted him a demure mod, retreated three steps, and did the same.
His right foot shifted half-an-inch forward.
She mirrored the motion.
And then:
CLANG!
They collided in a torrent of blades, weaving a metal cage of silvery death around them. A new glyph burst into existence behind her back but that trick had long since lost its luster; now that he knew what to expect he could protect her movements and react accordingly, giving ground where he could, parrying where it mattered most.
A whirlwind of blows, a devastating dancewithout end.
His blood began pumping in earnest, his heart pounding; he couldn't remember the last time he'd felt this alive. Winter wasn't a huntress in training like Weiss. She was a specialist, tried and true, worthy of the mantle, of his time, his full attention.
This was fun.
When was the last time he'd had this much fun?
Not been angry, not gone berserk, not flown into a cold rage, but actually enjoyed himself?!
He slashed at her in a quick succession of devastation, forcing her to backflip away from each one. A glyph sprang to life underfoot and she used it to launch herself away. From there, she alighted atop a lampost and grinned down at him. He hesitated, but only for a moment before slashed it out from under her. She was already vaulting away, landing atop a nearby rooftop.
He gave chase, idly wish he had a ranged equivalent for his weapons. He was more of a brawler through and through. Maybe something to ask Ruby when he got back to Beacon...?
A white Beowolf pounced at him while he was distracted; he lazily lopped it in half, looking for its master; he found her racing towards him, and not a moment too soon.
Their blades clashed, sparks flying anew.
She was acrobatic, he'd give her that. Nimble and quick, the very definition of a dancer. He could see where Weiss got it from. Unlike her, however, Winter preferred a different style. She possessed far more upper body strength, relying not on thrusting stances but precise slashes, targeting his joints. Calculated aggression, too. She had mastered her semblance well beyond Weiss and she knew how to use it.
It wouldn't save her.
Braving his blade with both hands, he went on the attack, forcing her to block; not once nor thrice, or five times, seven even, now nine...!
Winter gave ground with a grimace and tried to use a glyph to escape, only for him to stomp on it, shattering it. He gave her no time to summon another of her Grimm familiars, no chance to think, no moment to collect herself and rally. She could only defend, defend, defend, unable to anything else as he beat her down, forcing her blades further and further out of alignment.
She noticed, naturally, and tried to fight back.
A grin split his face.
Gotcha.
Catching her blade in his, he kicked out her, knee, weakening her footwork for a crucial moment, one he used to press the offensive ever harder. Such was the weakness of a fencer, of someone who insisted on using dual weapons. You were never truly as strong with both, as you would be with one.
He took full advantage, relying on brute force for the first time in a while. A mighty overhand swing drilled through her guard, wrenching her blade aside and driving her down to a knee. She tried to use her dagger, but he took the thrust against his leg and kept striking, bringing down hammer blow after hammer blow until finally-
He caught her under the chin and sent her flying.
Winter struck the ground in an uncontrolled tumble, flailing end over end. Her hair spilled free from its tightly controlled bun, spilling down her back in a pale curtain, soft as snow, not that she had time to notice, given she landed hard on her stomach, face in the street.
The reprieve proved painfully brief.
Almost immediately, she got an arm under her, followed by another, and began to rise. Slowly, ponderously at first, but with no apparent hurry despite her defeat.
Jaune inhaled sharply; something had changed. He could feel it. Taste it in the air.
It was coming.
"Well, well, not bad." Winter chuckled hoarsely, resting on a bent knee. "Rather impressive, actually. Weiss...yes, I can see how she would have trouble with you." she ran a hand through her hair, frowned when she realized it was no longer bound, and relented with a shrug. "My little sister means well, but she isn't all that strong, no matter what she might think." a finger rose, conjuring a miniature glyph at her fingertip. "I would've disciplined her sooner or later; she was always trying to surpass me, trying to prove that she could be the best. But she lacked something...
Her hand curled into a fist, extinguishing the glyph into motes of white light.
...that crucial edge...
Her frigid gaze locked onto him.
...one you clearly possess in spades."
She dragged herself upright and tossed her nearly-ruined blade over her shoulder, followed by her dagger. Her coat went last, exposing her arms and shoulders. Her vest had lost more than a few buttons. He tried not stare and stoically kept his eyes on hers instead.
Well that, he did, too...
"Congratulations, Jaune Arc." Hauling herself upright, Winter nodded once, as though confirming something she'd held in her heart for a long time, now. "You've successfully managed to impress me."
The temperature plummeted as she exhaled softly, a cloud of steam fleeing from her lips.
"None have managed that. Not even my own kin. Unfortunately...
She ascended into the air, levitating without a care.
...you're about to wish you hadn't."
As he looked on Winter's eyes blazed blue; quite literally; he could see sheets of cold flame flicking out from the edge of her lashes. Borne aloft on that pale, frigid wind, she loomed above him, swung up her hands over her head and swept them outward as though to embrace the whole of it. When she smiled, frost began to form on the street, snagging at his boots, forcing him to step back or lose them entirely.
"You should be honored," Winter intoned. "I haven't shown this power to anyone. First you will see, and then...you will fall."
Tilting her head back ever so slightly, she beckoned, as though imploring some higher power to her aid.
Dark clouds boiled into existence without warning, blotting out the sun as the wind picked up.
Snow began to fall, slowly at first, then in earnest, stinging sheets lashing at his skin.
Winter flung a hand toward him with a triumphant cry.
The heavens answered.
A/N: Yup. Winter Maiden~!
Rather obvious how that happened, but we'll get into more of it next chapter.
Next chapter title: Just a little Maiden.
The second half of the fight (Unleashed Jaune vs Maiden Winter) will continue and end next chapter. Hope you enjoy it~!
As ever, these glorious misunderstandings remain glorious. Are we going for the single route, or the harem ending? I suppose that depends on you, the reader. We're not quite done with the story yet, we still have a bit more to go, not to mention the other continents, Lionheart, the Crown, and the like. Or we could just end this after the imminent attack on Beacon.
Your choice!
Find out next time, on Practice Makes Perfect!
Once again, reviews are my fuel. Without them I simply cannot write.
So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...Review...Would You Kindly?
Alas, there are no previews this time.
Next chapter will be bonkers.
Everyone's gonna laugh~!
...alright, some previews.
But just a few small ones!
(Preview!)
The battle that followed was brutal.
Fire met ice, wind met lightning, it was elemental
Jaune loved every minute of it.
Amber sucked in a sharp breath behind him. "Ohhh, that sneaky bitch...
"What's going on here?!"
"Someone's attacking my sister!
Oh, no! Who would do thhhhhhaaaaaaat is Jaune! Kick her butt!
Weiss bridled. "Show him some respect, Winter!"
Amber balked at the destruction. "Jaune, what the actual Fuuuuu-
Qrow downed his flask. "Apple doesn't fall from the tree, eh, sparky...?
~Nz.